


And Know Not Me

by Verity_Kindle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anxiety, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Electrocution, Families of Choice, Gen, Grief/Mourning, He tries so hard, Hurt Peter Parker, Infinity War spoilers - last chapter only, Irondad, I’m so sorry, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Sensory Overload, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, showing love through million dollar engineering projects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verity_Kindle/pseuds/Verity_Kindle
Summary: Five times Tony protected Peter without letting him know - and one time he couldn’t.There exists a line between benevolent protectiveness and creepy-ass stalker behavior. Tony Stark is aware of this, and he’s going to get right on the project of figuring out where that line is, he swears. It’s just that the line is a bit of a moving target, and he’s a busy man. Lots to do, lots on his plate. He’ll get to it, though.As soon as Peter Parker is safely installed in a retirement home with round-the-clock supervision, he’ll get right on it.





	1. Government

There exists a line between benevolent protectiveness and creepy-ass stalker behavior. Tony Stark is aware of this, and he’s going to get right on the project of figuring out where that line is, he swears. It’s just that the line is a bit of a moving target, and he’s a busy man. Lots to do, lots on his plate. He’ll get to it, though. 

As soon as Peter Parker is safely installed in a retirement home with round-the-clock supervision, he’ll get right on it. 

~~~~~

The bitch of it is that he wasn’t wrong about the Sokovia Accords. Not entirely wrong, anyway, and considering Tony’s track record, he’s going to count that as a win. They do need accountability, and public support, and the goodwill of the nations of the world. The idea was good. 

The implementation is shit. 

The problem was, he’d been thinking Avengers-level when they were debating the whole mess, and yeah, when you’re dealing with people like Captain America and Scarlet Witch, you need all the bells and whistles. He hadn’t really stopped to consider what it could all mean when applied to fifteen-year-old nerds who mostly used their mutant powers to rescue kittens from sewers and whatever else. 

Thaddeus Ross had, though. The Accords are quite clear when it comes to superpowered vigilantes and the consequences of their actions. Ross wants to get his hands on Spider-Man, make an example of him one way or the other, and Tony’s not about to offer up the information that the dangerous vigilante Ross is after won’t be old enough to sign legal documents for himself for several years yet. 

But, see, there’s a problem. (There always is.) This time, it’s the fact that Tony had been in such a rush to outfit the kid in something more protective than a pair of pajamas with a carefully Sharpie’d-on spider decal that he’d neglected to be - how would Pepper put it? Subtle?

That would probably cover it. 

So yeah, he may have basically wrapped the kid up in a banner labeled “Property of Stark Industries - Do Not Touch” and then been seen with him in a few well-publicized places (note to self: Staten Island Ferry not entirely inconspicuous location for chewing out a misbehaving Spider-kid.) He makes mistakes. He’s only human. 

(Peter might not be, though, or not quite. Tony is afraid of what they’ll find if they start poking him with needles and taking DNA samples. He doesn’t want to think about that.)

Ross sends a letter when Tony won’t ever answer his calls. It’s short and sweet. Well, it’s short. They want the kid’s identity so they can encourage him into compliance with the Accords. Tony lets his bots set it on fire and have their fun putting it out. 

There’s another letter the next week, less short and more demanding. It reminds him of the penalties for non-signatory parties who engage in vigilante activities. Tony stares at it blankly, trying not to picture Peter - eager, enthusiastic, heart-on-his-damned-sleeve Peter - being hauled off to the Raft. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark!”

Tony crumples the letter and has to physically restrain himself from shoving it in his mouth to destroy the evidence by eating it. That never works, anyway, and is wildly suspicious. He swings around lazily in his chair and tosses the crumpled ball over his shoulder and into a wastebasket without a second glance. “Hey, kid. Did Scary Aunt May remember to pack you some juice boxes and goldfish crackers this time?” That earns him a scowl that’s trying very hard not to break into a smile around the corners, and he’ll count that as another win, thanks. Kids and their crazy, radioactive-spider-related hormones, right? You never know what you’re going to be dealing with. 

He shoves some of the clutter aside to make room, and Peter bounds into the lab to join him like an overenthusiastic puppy on steroids. It’s not what he ever expected his workshop time to look like, for sure, but he’s put up with Dummy and U for long enough that Peter is no hardship. Tony can scarcely pinpoint when this started - when the kid had wormed his way into Tony’s living spaces and work areas until he had access unmatched by anyone but Rhodey- but it had, and now he has a once-in-a-while companion whose company he doesn’t object to. 

Peter spends the evening making web fluid in quantities that frankly scare Tony a little and alternating between studied silences and cheerful chatter until the thunderous rumbling of his stomach makes it impossible for either of them to ignore the time anymore. They burn a few frozen pizzas while Tony complains about the difficulty of getting anyone to deliver decent takeout to the compound, and Peter eats it anyway with the cheerful equanimity of a teenage boy who doesn’t really taste his food in his rush to eat. 

Peter’s in a strangely quiet mood over dinner, and Tony is left to carry the conversational ball, which is fine except he hates it. They’ve covered all the important topics by the time Peter’s satiated: May (she’s fine), Peter’s friends (they’re fine), school (fine, with an eye-roll that Tony isn’t going to follow up on), his Spider-ventures (the most fine, and Tony isn’t supposed to believe anything Karen tells him to the contrary). He’s struggling to keep this conversational ship afloat in a sea of awkward silences when Peter throws him a line. 

“We talked about you in school today, Mr. Stark,” he begins, and then stops. Well, that’s fine. Tony has never met a conversational opener he couldn’t spin into gold if he tries. 

“About time! I was about to pull my funding and leave them struggling to rename that dining hall if I had to hear about one more lesson on the brilliance of Bruce Banner. Love the man to death, but my advancements in the field by far-“

“Not in science,” Peter interrupts. That’s weird. He doesn’t usually do that unless there’s frantic justification of his poor life choices going on. “In history.”

Tony chokes and slams himself in the chest a few times. His golden boy, his hope for the whole goddamned future, has killed him with unkindness. Peter clearly sees his distress because his hands fly up as if they have a life of their own and start gesticulating wildly. 

“Not that you’re history, Mr. Stark! You’re hardly old at all! It’s modern history, you know? More like current affairs, but we can’t call it that anymore because the electronics club took that title for their newsletter and now it’s just confusing!”

Tony glares at him for a minute and then shakes his head. “Fine. FRIDAY, reinstate Mr. Parker’s position in my will. All is forgiven.” He makes a ‘carry on’ gesture at Peter, whose eyes are even wider than usual. “So why am I being slandered behind my back now?”

“We were debating, you know? Our teacher really likes to set us up for debates because then he doesn’t have to prepare anything. MJ says he spends the whole class period working on his novel, but I think-“

“So you were debating?” Tony steers the conversation back toward the depths. He’s learned to anticipate some of the kid’s verbal tics and tendencies. 

“Right! He had us debating the Sokovia Accords.” Tony takes a deep breath and holds it for long seconds. He’s not going to react the way he wants to. “And he just assigns us sides, you know, or we would all just pick one so we wouldn’t have to bother? And I got stuck on-“ he stops, finally aware that he may be treading on difficult ground. Tony nods. 

“Stuck you on the opposing side, did he?”

“Yes!” Peter stands up to pace, like there’s too much energy in him to stand still. It makes Tony tired to look at him, sometimes. “And I fought with you because I agree with you, Mr. Stark, and I still do! But we had to do a bunch of research for our position and it got me thinking.” 

“Sure you want to get into that, kid?” Tony asks wryly. “Its an addictive habit.” 

Peter tunes him out. That’s a sign of how comfortable he’s gotten, because it used to be that he couldn’t even breathe in the kid’s presence without risking overexciting him to a dangerous level. “Are you sure we got it right? Because -“

Tony knows the kid is smart. That’s never in doubt, even if he’s sometimes also the biggest idiot Tony has ever seen. It’s just that he doesn’t always remember just how smart the kid is, or how deeply he’s thinking about everything even as he’s juggling more responsibilities than a person twice his age deserves. But Peter has done his research, and they hit the ground running with a better, more nuanced conversation about the Accords than Tony has ever had. Theory, implementation, philosophy- they’re still talking at almost midnight, and Peter has polished off the last blackened pizza crusts with every evidence of enjoyment. 

“Well, kid,” Tony finally says with a sigh, “my historically ancient bones need sleep. Good stuff, though. Keep at it. If we all thought these things through this well, we wouldn’t wind up trying to kill each other in public airports.”

Peter hesitates, and Tony realizes he’s still got something. He waits. “Mr. Stark?” Peter says, sounding every bit of fifteen. “Shouldn’t I be, y’know? Registered?”

Tony shudders, and pulls on his media smile. “Don’t bother yet, kid. By the time you’re ready to join the big leagues, who knows what the Accords will look like? We’re still negotiating and renegotiating every comma and semicolon of the thing.” 

Peter still trusts him, for reasons unknown, and so he nods thoughtfully and wanders away, and Tony is left to stare back towards his lab and think even harder about eating that damn letter. 

~~~~~

Of course Ross isn’t content to leave it at that. He steps up his campaign. When phone, email, mail, courier, and personal messenger fail, Ross marches himself into the compound. He brings backup - calm, neatly dressed, eminently controlled backup. Tony wastes a minute thinking nostalgically of when the compound had been full of life, when he could have called a small army of superheroes to stand against this tiny force to protect a kid who didn’t deserve to be dragged into any of this. He doesn’t have time to waste. 

“Secretary Ross, what an absolute displeasure to see you here!” Tony says cheerfully, not moving to invite him in. “What brings you to interrupt me like this?”

Ross stares at him impassively. “I know you’ve been getting my messages, Stark.”

Tony gestures around. “Well, I have a lot going on. Someone has to handle all this staring into the void and contemplating the meaning of life, and damn it if it doesn’t always seem to fall to me!”

“Spider-Man.” Ross is unmoving. “I want Spider-Man.”

“You and every absurdly-nicknamed sci-fi wanna-be cosplayer in New York City,” Tony scoffs. “Tell you what, why don’t you spend some of your time and money going after those guys? They’re the ones hurting people and causing massive property damage.”

“Stark.” Ross’ voice is almost a growl. 

“Spider-Man is nothing,” Tony snaps. “Small potatoes. He’s a guy looking out for his neighborhood, and that’s it!”

“He’s an enhanced individual operating outside the law,” Ross counters. “We already have enough evidence to haul him away, if we could get our hands on him. I’m sure no-one wants that to happen, though.” Tony restrains himself from rolling his eyes. Ross is as bad at subtlety as Pepper accuses him of being. 

“So don’t make it happen. Go find someone bigger.”

Ross shakes his head. “If it’s escaped your notice, the Accords have struggled a bit in the press. The fact that numerous of the most popular enhanced individuals refused to sign made us look bad right off the bat. I’ll be honest with you, Stark. We need a win, or this deal is going to start stinking.”

“And arresting a good guy for stopping a few muggings a week is going to make it look better?” Tony asks, and doesn’t stop the eye roll this time. 

“No. Bringing Spider-Man into compliance, and hopefully learning enough from his testing to give us some new scientific advancements just might, though. We need the public to see the positive outcomes here.”

“Sorry, still not getting it,” Tony says blankly. “Turning heroes into lab rats sounds pretty much exactly what our enemies usually have planned. Am I missing something?”

“Yes.” Ross steps closer, and Tony doesn’t budge. “I think you’re missing the fact that you are now hindering the implementation of the Accords. You know Spider-Man’s identity and are keeping it from me. Legally, I could have you imprisoned on the Raft indefinitely for that.” 

Yeah. Shit. Tony had known that, and had been hoping Ross wouldn’t go there. One of these days he was going to stop hoping altogether. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. 

He could fight them, these cool professionals, and maybe he could win - but then he would be no different than Steve and the others, and he’d be on the run just like they were. There wasn’t much he could do for Peter that way. But this, refusing to cooperate? Tony Stark could refuse to cooperate until the stars went out. He sets his shoulders and squares his chin, and says nothing. 

Ross notices the change of posture and gives a huge, aggregated sigh. “Stark. I need you with me on this.”

“I’ve been with you all along, for all the good it’s done me,” Tony says coldly. “It’s cost me everything. This is where I draw the line. I’m not naming names and handing over good people to be turned into lab rats and PR campaigns. And yeah,” he goes on, not stopping to breathe. “Yeah, you could throw me in prison - and then you’d have lost one more from your list of cooperating individuals. Wouldn’t that be fairly bad publicity, just when you need a win?” 

Ross is fuming, just beneath the surface. “You’re getting a bit too comfortable in that position of yours, Stark,” he says slowly. Tony can feel that anger burning off him. “Fine. Maybe I can’t bring Spider-Man into compliance just yet. Guess I’ll have to work with you instead.”

They sweep into the compound, then, moving Tony along with them - and it’s not a fight. Not physically. Ross goes through everything he’s working on, confiscating projects here and there just because he can. The lab is turned upside down, and his newest prototype suit vanished out the door in the arms of one of the stooges. Tony stands and watches it go, and it isn’t Peter being hauled away. He breathes. 

They leave Tony in a mess of half-destroyed projects with promises of future visits, and he looks around at the destruction. The Accords need work in the worst way, and he’s lost weeks of time on a dozen projects, and the compound is deafeningly empty right now. 

He clears his throat. “FRIDAY, pull up the schematics for the Iron Spider suit.” He grins grimly. “We’ve got a kid to keep safe.”


	2. Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, umm, holy hell. Thank you all so much for the warm welcome! It absolutely made my day, and I was so encouraged. I really hope this fic continues to be as enjoyable for you to read as it is for me to write!
> 
> Also, I forgot to say - the title comes from Tennyson’s Ulysses because a) I am pompous and absurd and b) god in heaven, try reading that poem and not having all the Tony Stark feels, because I can’t.

So look. Tony is good at a lot of things, but false modesty isn’t one of them. Comes of being so good at so many things. Being good at making superhero suits is kinda the thing he’s actually famous for being good at. He can’t deny it. 

So it takes him by surprise, although he’s not about to admit it, when he realized he overlooked something wildly important. No big deal, though. It just takes almost getting the kid killed for him to notice. 

And it’s not all Tony’s fault. 60/40, give or take, but the rest of the fault lies with the kid, and blaming a fifteen-year-old for overlooking an engineering issue that the world’s foremost super-suit engineer also missed seems shitty. So he doesn’t do that. He’s trying this ‘responsible adult human’ thing on for size with the kid hanging around so much, and he swears his conscience is Hulking out at being so well listened to. Anyway, the blame is his. 

Tony spent some time on Wikipedia after he first started poking around at the internet’s newest insectoid sensation a few months before Germany. He learned more about spiders than he ever wanted to know, and wound up with some creepy dreams for a few nights. Mostly he was curious about the freaky sticky powers. He’d designed the suit to work with the innate biology that let Spider-Man climb walls and fling webs, and he’d actually done a pretty damn good job, considering he was working sight unseen. The suit fit and worked, and itsy bitsy Peter Parker flew like he’d been born to it. It was enough to make Tony a little proud. (And the pride thing gave him a distressing case of heartburn. Note to FRIDAY: order a case of Tums. Industrial size, in case Peter managed to stay alive long enough to stick around.)

He’d learned a lot about spiderwebs in that research, though. The glue that made them sticky was an amazing thing - it worked differently based on how it was manipulated. Rapid motion made it basically a solid form of elastic, able to withstand a great deal of force. Slower interaction made it just a really sticky glue. He was amazed by the fact that Peter - tiny nerd with a brain the size of a planet - had figured out how to manufacture his own. In science lab. Under the noses of his teachers. 

(Seriously, the world has no idea what’s coming in this kid. Tony knows his own reputation as a genius may well be in danger in comparison, and somehow, he’s ok with that.)

What he had read - and then promptly forgotten, aside from a throwaway webshooter setting or ten - was that spiderwebs are electrically conductive. 

And that’s what kills the kid. 

Ok, so it only kills him for a moment, and Tony’s on it, but it takes at least ten years off his life. 

What happens is that his little Spiderling is off flying through the mean streets of New York City, bringing tidings of comfort and joy to all mankind or whatever. The kid is still young enough not to mind that it’s pouring down rain out of a sullenly heavy sky, and his suit’s heater is working well enough to keep him comfortable. 

And it just so happens that Tony actually has eyes on him, for once. No matter what FRIDAY says, he really isn’t watching all the time, but he’s been working on some new modifications to the kid’s suit ever since Ross started getting pushy and he needs a few visual references. New York is great for that, because all the surveillance cameras mean it’s pretty easy to track the little menace through the streets to see how he’s handling what he’s got. 

And then - and this part really is like 90 percent Parker’s fault - everything goes wrong, and it’s hard to see how it happens. The kid is up on a rooftop, high above the city, staring down like he thinks he’s Batman or something, when he startles and makes a leap for it. Tony is willing to bet it’s that ‘Spidey-sense’ the kid talks about (because apparently he never got bullied out of earnest, non-cynical responses to everything.) 

(Tony is really, really glad the kid hasn’t been pushed there yet.)

Anyway, he jumps for it, slinging a web from the tallest part of the building just in time to avoid a massive lightning strike. 

A lightning strike that hits the high point where Peter just attached a web. 

A web that conducts electricity. 

So to fast forward a bit, past that part that still has Tony breaking out in a cold sweat to think of it, Peter Parker winds up collapsed on a fire escape ten stories up with a mostly fried suit and a heart that isn’t beating. Massive amounts of electricity shooting though the body can do that to a person, as it turns out. 

And it’s not like Tony wouldn’t do something as stupid as flying out into the lightning storm himself in a gigantic tin can, but for once, he doesn’t have to, because he’s anxiety-prone on top of being a suspicious bastard, and he had built an emergency defibrillator into Peter’s suit. One he can operate remotely. With it’s own shielded emergency power source. 

There’s a reason Pepper worries about him, he knows. 

It only takes one try to get the poor kid’s heart going again, and Tony’s hand clutches his own chest in relief. No need for Peter to end up like him. Not yet, anyway. FRIDAY hijacks all the security systems nearby to give him eyes on the kid until he sees for himself that he’s up and moving, that wonderfully efficient healing factor already kicking in. Tony slumps in his chair, heart still racing, and lets FRIDAY soothe him with facts and statistics about the shockingly survivable nature of many lightning strikes. 

He watches until the kid makes it all the way home, and he hates himself a bit for the fact that he’s not out there checking Peter for burns or memory loss or burst eardrums -

But Peter needs to walk away from this on his own. Tony’s seen him hesitate a few times too many at strange triggers - noises he can’t hear or half-empty structures that seem to freak the kid out - and he knows this down to his bones. 

(He’d been the same, once - pushing aside helping hands to walk off the plane and across the tarmac on his own. After Afghanistan. Sometimes you need to know that you’re strong enough to get up and walk all on your own.) 

There are half-moon imprints on his palms where his blunt fingernails have pressed in by the time Peter makes it home, but Tony never knows it. 

He doesn’t sleep that night. The suit’s gotta be fixed. He’s studying birds’ feet when Pepper comes in the next morning looking for him. 

“Yeah no, yeah,” he mutters distractedly to whatever she’s asking. “That sounds-“ 

He forgets what he was saying. The suit’s AI reports that Peter’s heart had stopped for 27 seconds. 

“Tony!” Pepper physically steps between him and his readouts, and he blinks back into awareness. “Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he says, blinking owlishly. He hadn’t noticed how his eyes were burning. “I’m about to save all of humanity from lightning, if I get this right. Think that’ll earn me a statue?”

Pepper is smart. She’s so smart - way too smart for him. She looks through the evidence of his night’s work and doesn’t need him to connect the dots for her. “Is HE alright?” 

Tony nods - too vigorously - and rubs his face with both hands. He definitely doesn’t let out a sniffle, because the kid is fine and everything’s fine and he’s going to fix this. Pepper gives a long, low sigh and rubs his shoulders hard enough to hurt. 

He really loves Pepper a whole lot. 

“Just, uh,” he says when she turns to leave. “When he shows up with some ridiculous lie about what happened to the suit? Just go with it, ok?”

She does. (Although good god - “burned it up roasting marshmallows at a cookout. Indoor cookout. Over a gas stove. Cook in.” is about the worst excuse Tony can imagine, and he thought up his share in his day.) She brings the kid to the lab and Tony carefully doesn’t study him for a limp or evidence of trauma. Peter is nervous, shifting from foot to foot as if afraid Tony’s going to snatch the suit and keep it from him forever. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he babbles. “It was stupid and I should have-“

“Nah.” Tony grabs the suit and throws it in the garbage, where one sleeve hangs sadly over the rim. Peter gives a strangled noise like his teddy bear has just been murdered, and Tony ignores it. “About time. That was just a prototype. Much better stuff to come.” 

“Better?” Peter has no right to sound that suspicious when his own attempts at spider suits are an embarrassment to the entire race. “Are you talking ‘enhanced interrogation mode better’ or ‘instant kill better’? Because I’ve got to say, Mr. Stark, I’m not really comfortable-“ 

Tony dismisses all that with a wave. “I’m gonna need a sample of your web fluid, kid,” he says briskly, and then stops to think for a second. “And your blood type.”

“My - what?” 

“Also a sandwich,” Tony calls as he starts digging through a pile of discarded webshooter prototypes. “I may be here for a few days.”

It takes him three days and six hours, and when he’s done, Spider-Man is lightning proof. He should also be fairly immune to most other forms of electricity, but Tony’s not about to tell the kid that or he’ll just take even stupider risks. He doesn’t let Peter thank him when he hands over the new suit. 

“The colors were off on the old one,” he says simply. “Made you look like Cap’s wannabe little brother. This is way better.”

Peter stares at him with his mouth open (which honestly really ought to annoy Tony. He viciously curb-stomps the part of him that’s telling him it’s adorable.)

“You made me a whole new suit because it was the wrong color?” 

“Branding is everything, kid,” he says with a shrug, and pats the too-narrow shoulder as he breezes by. “Gotta stay on top of that or you’ll find yourself on a knockoff Wheaties box.” 

He can practically hear the kid pouting as he walks away, and he has to stifle a smug grin. 

~~~~~

Peter never knows he’s done anything, but Tony does. He watches in grim satisfaction as the energy weapons that were meant to knock the kid dead spark and shimmer off the suit with no effect. 

And then he groans as the bad guys of the day grab old fashioned guns instead. 

(Note to FRIDAY: next project? Bulletproofing spandex.)


	3. Public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys. Thank you so much for the warmth and support! You’re amazing!!!
> 
> This chapter didn’t go exactly where I’d outlined it. I think it went somewhere better. Who am I to judge, though? I really hope you enjoy!

Secretary Ross may be an idiot, but he’s not a moron. Tony feels like this is an important distinction to make. 

Ross gives a press conference expressing his pleasure with how the Accords are shaping up, and closes by reminding all those watching how important it is for all enhanced individuals to bring themselves into compliance. 

“And for those who are wary of stepping into the light, we are here to support you,” he says, smiling grimly at the cameras. “It is the patriotic duty of every citizen to support full compliance with the Accords. Our friendly neighborhood vigilantes deserve our proper thanks and support - by their own names, not the monikers they have hidden behind in less civilized times. Let us all be engaged in the project of tearing away the masks. The rewards will be great for us all.” His smile turns a shade darker at that, and Tony waves a hand to get FRIDAY to shut off the machine. His head hurts, suddenly. 

It hurts more two hours later when a certain wind-blown Spider-Lad flings himself against Tony’s window and starts knocking way too hard. 

“Mr. Stark? Can I come in? I really need to talk to you!”

It’s not like Peter doesn’t do this often enough. Sometimes all that energy can be a bit overwhelming. Tony darts down into his lab as if he’d been there all along and waits just a second (not that he’s out of breath - he’s in much better shape than most men his age) before glancing heavenward. “FRIDAY, engage Latchkey Protocol.” 

She hums a response, and he can hear the window sliding open through the communication channel she holds open. “Good evening, Peter,” FRIDAY says calmly. “If you would like a snack or a drink before you begin your homework, please help yourself.” Tony smirks, half-wishing he could see the look on the kid’s face. FRIDAY could always show him the video later. Teasing Peter never quite got old. 

“What? No, nonono! I need to talk to Mr. Stark! Is he here, is he-“ 

“Homework comes before social calls, young man,” FRIDAY tells him kindly. 

“No, it’s done, look!” Peter says frantically. If he’s actually trying to show Tony’s AI his completed homework, then Tony Stark’s life is complete. He can die happy now. The kid is the purest nerd to ever walk the planet. “Please, FRIDAY, can you just tell me where I can find him?” 

The note of desperation is a little too real now, and Tony relents. “In the lab, young Padawan,” he intones, and then remembers to grab some random pieces of junk so it looks like he’s been busy. Peter’s down the stairs in less time than Tony feels is reasonable. He makes a mental note to add padding at the bottom of all his staircases. Just in case. 

“Mr. Stark, please, you gotta help me!” That’s - hmm. That’s unusual, for Peter. Usually he’s denying he needs help, actively rejecting help, or nearly dying because he rejected help. This is something different. Tony turns all the way around to look at him. 

The kid looks flustered, and is clutching his mask in one hand so tightly it makes Tony’s fingers ache in sympathy. He decides to forgo sarcasm for the moment. “What’s up, kid?”

Peter flails vaguely in the direction of the staircase. “It’s crazy out there! People kept trying to grab me!”

“You’ve chosen a life of crime-fighting and exciting fisticuffs,” Tony says slowly. “Isn’t that kind of par for the course?”

“Not like this, though!” Peter runs both hands through his hair. The resemblance to a baby porcupine is startling. “Not people I was fighting, Mr. Stark! Everybody! People I was helping! Even the nice old churros lady!”

Tony frowns. “Are people attacking one another randomly, or is it just your raw magnetism and natural appeal?” 

“Just me!” Peter’s voice is doing that thing that always makes Tony want to laugh, where it shoots up three octaves without warning. He doesn’t laugh. He remembers the cruel ravages of puberty and the teenage years all too well. “They kept trying to grab my mask and take it off!”

On a sudden hunch, Tony spins around and types furiously for a moment. 

Uh-huh. Ross really isn’t a moron. 

He rubs his eyes with a tired hand. “Spider-Man is grounded for a week,” he says. 

“But - I didn’t-“ 

“Not your fault this time, kiddo.” Tony gestures, and the headlines are projected into the air so Peter can see them as well. 

UNMASK SPIDER-MAN, one blares. ENHANCED INDIVIDUALS TO BE BROUGHT INTO COMPLIANCE WITH SOKOVIA ACCORDS. 

Peter goes a shade paler and points at the largest one. 

GOVERNMENT OFFERS INCENTIVES FOR INFORMATION ON CIVILIAN IDENTITIES OF SPIDER-MAN, OTHERS. 

Tony skims the article while Peter panics quietly in the background. Well, not so quietly. He’s earned it, though. 

Ross is making it a game - an officially government-sanctioned one, at that - to identify enhanced individuals and provide their information to the authorities. The incentives are heady (or so Tony assumes. It’s actually hard for him to quantify, sometimes. Money is so meaningless when you have it.) 

What’s worse, though, is the boost this will give the media. He has no doubt that they can keep Peter quiet for a week or two while the furor dies down, and then ordinary people will be no more of a threat than before. To be the media outlet that identifies Spider-Man, though? Tony’s headache moves in behind his eyes and brings a few friends, including stomach pain and an increased heart rate. 

But priorities are a thing, and he has to push all of that away and make himself swing around easily and roll his eyes theatrically for Peter. “This is what they’re going with now, huh? Publicity stunts? Pathetic.”

Peter doesn’t look so good. He’s got his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he paces back and forth frantically. Tony is suddenly struck by how small the suit makes him look. Something to address in the next model. He shakes his head frantically. “Mr. Stark, I don’t know what to do!”

Keep it cool, Tony. He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs in front of him. “Do you want to go public?” He keeps his tone totally neutral. No need to influence the kid’s decision with his own opinions. 

“No!” Peter stops and stares at him, horrified. “No! I’ve always kept it secret! I can’t let them have that ammunition to use against me!”

Tony nods, relieved. “I get it, kid. Absolutely. I’ll help you keep it under wraps.” 

Peter scarcely seems to hear him, taking up his pacing again. “How do I keep it secret with all of New York after me? If it gets out - who I am, you know - it’ll be all over!”

“First and foremost, what you need to remember is that people are idiots,” Tony says comfortingly. “Most of ‘em, anyway. Nobody is likely to piece together the clues and have them add up to you.” 

“I know,” Peter says miserably, and collapses into another chair like someone cut all of his strings. Tony frowns. 

“What do you mean by that?”

Peer gesticulates with one arm into the air above his head. “They’re all looking for Spider-Man, you know? Big hero, cool guy, can catch a bus with his bare hands. As soon as everyone knows it’s just me under here, nobody will take me seriously again.” He seems to lose the willpower to hold up his arm, letting it collapse tragically into his face. 

Sweet Christ on a cracker, Tony thinks, brain already trying to spin six different ways to handle this. And because he’s Tony Stark, he goes for the worst of the available options. 

He’s going to have an honest conversation. With a kid. 

Sometimes it sucks to be him. 

He wastes a minute wishing he was wearing his sunglasses (or better yet, the whole Iron Man suit) before sending his chair rolling over to crash gently into Peter’s. The poor kid doesn’t move, lost in the depths of semi-justifiable teenage woe. Tony makes a fist and bumps the kid’s shoulder with it a few times. 

See, he can totally do supportive. Where is Pepper now, when she should be bearing witness to this?

“How old were you when I started doing the whole Iron Man thing? Eight, nine?” Peter shrugs. Tony takes a moment to quietly despair, and gets back to it. “You probably weren’t aware of most of it, but - Iron Man was a hero. Very cool, very impressive. Way higher expectations than for a local vigilante. And Tony Stark-“ he hesitated a moment. It’s harder to say than he expected. Peter is looking at him, though, confused and expectant, and Tony has to keep going. “Well, he was pretty much a pile of rat droppings. I was a narcissistic, arrogant, entitled playboy and everybody knew it. I was so tempted to stay anonymous. I could play the hero, and nobody would have to know what Iron Man really was, deep down.”

Peter has regained the strength to sit up like a human, so that’s a good sign. He looks offended on behalf of Tony’s past self. Shouldn’t be touching, but it is. So there’s that. 

“But you’re not!” he protests. “You really are a hero! There isn’t any Iron Man without you.” 

“That’s not what you thought when I sent a suit to save you from drowning.”

Peter glares at him. Much like the glare of the ordinary kitten, it has no effect. “No, that’s not the same, and you know it! It doesn’t count.”

Tony waves that away. “Point is, kid - Spider-Man and Peter Parker aren’t two separate individuals, and you’re not doing yourself any good thinking that way.” He pokes a finger right in the kid’s face. “There is no ‘just you’. You are Spider-Man. Anything you think is good or impressive about him? That’s just you. In a really, really cool costume, of course. Still just you.” Peter is looking at him, wide-eyed, and Tony really hopes he’s not screwing this all up. He waits a beat or three, until it’s starting to get awkward, and fidgets nervously with his fingers. 

“So - are you saying you think I should tell everyone, like you did?” Peter sounds so unsure, and Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“God, no, kid. That’s exactly the opposite of what you should do. I didn’t explain it well.” He sighs heavily. “You’ve got to keep quiet - but not because you’re a disappointment or unworthy or whatever you’re telling yourself. Stay anonymous, because Peter Parker is a great kid who deserves a chance to enjoy as much of a normal life as he can get. You get that?”

“Yes?” Peter says. It lacks conviction. 

“Plus, you’ll give yourself grey hairs worrying after all the people you care about, once your identity is out.” Tony’s lost the edge of humor now, and he clears his throat. “Plenty of time to worry about all that later. For now, the quieter you can keep it, the better, for a whole lot of reasons.” 

“And that’s what I was planning!” Peter jumps up, leaving his chair spinning. He’s a little ball of energy and anxiety again, and Tony’s headache turns up the volume and begins to dance. Children are emotional yo-yos. “And now this! How am I -“

“Have a little faith,” Tony says drily. He snags the mask out of the kid’s hand as he paces by and starts to examine it. “For practicality’s sake, we can start by making it a whole lot harder for other people to take off.”

Peter almost collapses with relief, which tells Tony all he needs to know about his mental state and, more worryingly, about the amount of faith he places in Tony’s abilities to help him. 

“I am getting it back, though, right?” He asks the question so nervously that Tony takes another opportunity to berate himself for that misstep. Mental note: any time his encounters with Peter remind him of his own father, he’s going to do an immediate 180. 

Today has been a pretty good example of how not to emulate Howard. 

“I don’t have space around here to store all your junk,” Tony says, gesturing to the enormous, mostly empty compound. He is the master of deceit. 

“Oh good, because it really is the coolest thing ever!” Peter sounds like himself again - which is to say about three seconds from doing something cheerfully life-threatening and endangering an old man’s damaged heart. “Oh! Mr. Stark! Did you know I’m immune to lightning now? How cool is that?”

Tony’s headache takes up bagpipe lessons. 

~~~~~

Suit alterations take a few hours. Keeping Peter grounded from Spidering for a week is a lot more work, but Tony mostly dumps that on Scary Aunt May so he can focus on the real work. 

Peter is scared of the wrong thing, and Tony knows it. It had taken him less than a week to work out the kid’s identity, and that was with a whole lot less to go on than the internet could now provide. Tony and FRIDAY have work to do. They scrub all evidence they can from the internet and place countless false leads and baseless claims to mislead investigators. He wishes, sometimes, that Natasha was still around all the time. She could do this with so much more ease and finesse. 

Pepper helps, on her side, by legitimizing the internship thing to make sure Peter’s got all the cover he needs on that front. Because she’s Pepper, and therefore the best, she’s got a full-fledged Stark Internship Program going in under a week. 

“You can’t just have one Stark Intern,” she tells him with amused scorn (and honestly, who else can pull off that combination), flipping through files of applications he’s pretty sure they never requested. “That’s suspicious in the extreme.”

“None of the others get to come in my lab!” Tony protests. “And I’m not making them suits!”

“I know.” She’s so fond, it takes his breath away. “Peter is special.” 

The excitement does die away, just like he promised. He sees to it that Ross is deluged with so many fake tips that it keeps his team running after false leads, and that helps, too. Peter gets a little more cautious, the suit gets a lot more protective, and Tony goes a bit greyer. There’s no helping that now, because Pepper is right. Peter is special.


	4. Family

Peter Parker is having a bad week. Which, in turn, means that Tony Stark is having a bad week. He may be a genius, but the math on this one still stumps him. Somewhere along the line, Peter’s problems had come to equal Tony’s problems. 

(He works very, very hard to make sure that only goes one way. The kid doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of Tony’s shit.)

The week had started normally enough. Peter had spent half the day on Sunday working with Tony in the lab. 

(“Working.” Tony needs to hope like hell FRIDAY will be an angel and never let anyone else get hold of the footage of the two of them in their multi-million dollar suits, running around and playing with Peter’s webshooters like the world’s most well-funded and well-equipped Silly String battle. The bots are still scraping webs off various surfaces three days later.)

Peter had only picked up his phone as he was getting ready to leave. Tony had noticed how he hesitated before grabbing it, and utilized a well-timed Inquisitive Eyebrow to seek answers. The kid cracked like an egg, as usual. 

“Aunt May always gets fussy if I haven’t checked in for a while, even when she knows I’m here,” Peter said, with all the eye-rolling world-weariness a child can muster. “And Ned always gets jealous, so there’s gonna be, like, a hundred texts.”

Tony waved both hands at him, shooing him toward his device. “Get on with it, then. It’s rude to leave people lingering without answering, you know. Thought your aunt had raised you better.”

From above, FRIDAY had piped up, sweet as treachery, “Boss, you currently have fourteen thousand, six hundred and four unread emails.” 

Tony cocked his head to the side and gestured skyward with one stern finger. “Dead to me,” he snapped, and FRIDAY gave an electronic whir that was almost a giggle. Sometimes he terrifies himself with how very good he is at what he does. Peter did giggle, just a bit, and then snatched up his phone to hide behind its little screen. 

“Oh,” he’d said with some relief. “Nothing! That’s good.” 

“Scary Aunt May has probably realized the delights of home and family are nothing compared to the withering sarcasm and unpaid child labor that await you here,” Tony said with a flippant grin, gesturing around. “I’ve won at last. Always knew I would.” 

“You don’t always have to call her Scary Aunt May, you know,” Peter said, shoving one arm through the straps of his overladen book bag. What do they make kids carry in those things these days, personal armor? “She’s not really that scary, as long as I don’t forget to pick up my socks.”

“And there you’re wrong again, kid,” Tony corrected. “I’ve fought with the literal God of Thunder, and I’m telling you he would have backed down from the force of your aunt’s fury with me when she found out your little secret.” He peered at Peer thoughtfully. “Are you sure she doesn’t have super powers? Maybe it wasn’t a spider bite. These things can run in families, you know.” 

Peter didn’t bother to answer that. He sent off a few texts, lightning fast, and then headed for the stairs. “I gotta go before she gets worried. Thanks again, Mr. Stark! I had a great time today!”

“Me too, kiddo,” Tony muttered, turning away a bit to muffle the words. The brilliant grin that split Peter’s face reminded him of the kid’s stupid super-senses, and he reminded himself that there’s no whispering around this kid. 

“Gotta web!” Peter called, launching himself up the stairs three at a time, and Tony strode to the foot of the stairs to holler after him. 

“That’s not your catchphrase! That can’t be your catchphrase now!” He went back to work, shaking his head in dismay. “Awful. Don’t they teach them anything in superhero school these days?”

~~~~~

Monday and Tuesday passed normally enough for Tony. Sometimes his life becomes a blur of meetings and experiments and interviews and social events, and sometimes the empty time stretches on endlessly, the moments tumbling by with painful slowness as he struggles to keep his mind afloat. This week was more comfortably situated in the middle of those two extremes, and he bounced from one thing to another with decent cheer. 

On Tuesday night, Peter broke his wrist wrestling a guy three times his size off his own buddy. They’d both been drunk, apparently, and play-fighting had turned nasty way too fast. Peter would have ignored the break and kept on swinging, but that’s why he has a suit that’s smarter than most college graduates. Karen shut everything down, including the web-shooters, and made Peter sit and wait for assistance. 

Tony had been watching all of it since the suit’s AI alerted him of the break, and was feeling very proud of himself for not jumping in and trying to rescue the kid. Peter was growing into his own heroism. He didn’t need to be rescued by Iron Man every time he got a little scrape. 

(Tony was already planning how he might incorporate first aid measures into the next iteration of the Spider-Man suit. Could he build in automatically-deploying cold compresses? Pressure bandages? There were a lot of possibilities.)

So it came as a surprise when Peter huffed in frustration, yanked the mask halfway off (easier to do than removing it all the way, now, since they’d improved the mask’s security) and made a phone call - and Tony’s phone rang. 

He glared at it in surprise for a minute, but it hadn’t been coincidence. Peter was calling him. 

He let it ring three and a half times before answering. “Please tell me you’ve rethought the catchphrase,” he said drily. 

“What? No, I - haven’t really thought about it any more, but Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I really am, but I kind of could use a bit of help? Only if you’re available, of course! I - aww, crap, sorry, I forgot you don’t live here anymore.”

“No, no,” Tony said, yanking off his MIT hoodie and shoving his feet into his shoes. “You’ve piqued my curiosity now, kid. Not allowed to stop.”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark!” He sounded so sheepish it was painful to listen to him. “I just - I could use a ride, but I forgot that you’re upstate now and can’t get here. It’s really not a big deal - I can walk!”

“Upstate?” Tony lied, calling a suit even as he strode toward the exit. “Nope. I’m in the city tonight. Had a thing. Where are you? I can pick you up.”

Peter stuttered through a few more excuses before giving his location. Tony was thirty miles into his flight by then. 

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he said, changing course slightly to avoid a flock of bats. “Traffic is a bitch. Sit tight, kid.” 

He thundered into New York City and headed for one of the parking garages where he always kept a car. (Pepper had laughed at him a bit for this, but he’d been stubborn.) He pulled up in front of the smelly alley where the kid was hanging out less than thirty minutes after he got the call. Not too bad a response time, all things considered. 

Peter wandered over to the car disconsolately, clutching the broken wrist to his chest with his uninjured arm. The fact that Tony had seen the kid shake off much bigger injuries than this is what keeps him somewhat calm, and he leans over and opens the door from the inside. 

“Sorry to be such a bother,” Peter said quietly as he shut the door with hardly a wince. “I’d have been fine to get myself home, but your neurotic suit wouldn’t let me.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony said, reaching out to take his arm gently. “Lemme see?”

FRIDAY gave him a quick scan. Fractured, but cleanly, and already beginning to show signs of healing. Tony was wildly jealous of the kid’s healing factor. 

(If Ross ever gets his hands on this kid, his scientists won’t stop until they’ve turned the kid into a corpse, looking to reverse engineer that healing factor and the rest of the package. Tony shuddered.)

“Hospital or home?” Tony asked. Gotta let the kid make his own choices when possible. 

“Home, please.” Peter sounded more worn than usual. “I’ll be fine.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Tony couldn’t bear it anymore. “So, I know it’s a few weeks yet until you’re sixteen, and you’re a way better kid than I was. You’ve only joyriddden and crashed one car so far, as far as I know, so I get why you’re not driving yourself. Doesn’t Scary Aunt May have a car, though?”

(She does. It’s a horrifically old thing with questionable parts and an even more questionable aesthetic. She and Peter haven’t thought to ask why it’s been running so smoothly for the past few months, or why the oil never needs to be changed. Tony can too be subtle, no matter what Pepper says.) 

“She’s not home tonight,” Peter said. That’s not suspicious- but the flatness of the statement is. 

“Hmmm,” Tony said. Keep it neutral, leave the verbal space open, and the kid usually winds up tripping into it to share everything Tony could possibly want to learn. 

Sure enough, a thirty second wait had Peter sighing as he scuffed his foot awkwardly along the floor of the car. “She’s not even working tonight,” he said morosely. “Or either of the last two.”

“How dare she?” Tony asked with mock disapproval. “This is America. Doesn’t she know to keep her nose to the grindstone?”

“That’s not what I meant, Mr. Stark.” He was disapproving now, which always made Tony smirk. It was like being disapproved of by a chipmunk. “I always think she’s working too much! It just that it’s not normal for her to disappear when she doesn’t have work.”

The level of unhappiness radiating off this sad mutant spider-child made Tony take sudden note. “Hang on - you don’t think something’s wrong, do you?”

Peter shook his head. “Nothing you can fix, anyway. She’s been home every day and seems normal - you know, healthy and happy and stuff.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Peter shrugged, and then winced at the pain the motion caused. “There isn’t one.”

“Uh-huh.” The waiting game didn’t work this time because they were pulling up outside Peter’s apartment building. He avoided the front, not eager to expose the kid to any more attention tonight. 

“Thanks again, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, and Tony wouldn’t have noticed how comparatively restrained it was if he wasn’t so attuned to the kid’s normal levels of joyful excitement. 

“Take care of that properly,” Tony said, gesturing sharply at the broken wrist and feeling himself instantly inching a few more notches along the Old Fuddyduddy Scale. “Karen will tell me if you don’t.”

“Yeah.” Peter gave his own suit the side-eye, which took some doing since he was still wearing it. 

“Say hi to Scary Aunt May for me!” Tony calls as Peter pulls himself onto the fire escape with his good arm. “And your pal Fred!”

“Sure, Mr. Stark.” The breeze carried Peter’s words down gently, and Tony frowned. Something was eating the kid. It wasn’t his job to pry, though. 

~~~~~

By Thursday, Tony was wondering how the hell he’d accidentally made Peter’s AI more of a helicopter parent than he himself was turning into. Karen had contacted him with concerns about Peter’s sleep, his calorie intake, his overall demeanor, and his preoccupation during several encounters with criminals. 

When she called yet again while Tony was neck deep in the latest round of Sokovia Accord amendments, he growled and addressed the ceiling. “FRIDAY? Be a doll and talk to your sister for me. Tell her that unless the kid is actively undergoing a crisis I don’t want to hear about it right now, ok?”

There was a tiny hesitation while the AIs exchanged information, and then FRIDAY spoke up, a trifle hesitantly. “Boss? The kid seems to be actively undergoing a crisis.”

He made it to Peter in less than twenty minutes this time, not bothering with the facade of picking up a car. The kid was huddled against a wall on top of a ridiculously high building, face pressed into his knees and arms around his head. The way he flinched when Tony’s boots hit the ground suddenly made all of Karen’s strange biometric readings make sense. 

“Bad day, champ?” He kept his voice as quiet as possible, and Peter still flinched, barely moving his head in an minuscule nod. “Karen, initiate Time Out protocol.”

He held still, not willing to subject the kid to more noise and vibration, as he waited to see the new subroutine take effect. Peter had told him, the first time they met, about the problems his super-senses could cause. It hadn’t really hit Tony until he saw him struggling through a “turned up to eleven” day, and then it had been an immediate priority. 

Tony’s been tortured. Not something he likes to think about, particularly, but it happened. He knows what it feels like (too hot, too bright, too sharp, too loud), and he hopes to god it’s not that painful, what Peter goes through. It’s worse than it should be, that’s certain. The new protocol is meant to dampen as many external stimuli as possible to provide him with some relief. Sight, sound, smell, even touch are modified by the suit; Karen makes the inside of his costume something more like a sensory deprivation chamber, with enough vision and hearing to keep him safe. 

The relief was evident after the first minute, and Peter relaxed in a rush, unfurling from his little protective ball and letting go of his ears. Tony moved slowly and carefully, stepping out of the Iron Man suit and moving to sit on the ground next to Peter, shoulders pressed together lightly. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter said after a minute. Tony was glad he still had the mask on, because he could tell from Peter’s raw voice that he wouldn’t be able to handle looking the kid in the face right now. 

“Course you are.” He put out a hand and gave the kid’s shiny shoulder an incredibly gentle squeeze. “You’re always fine.” Peter hiccuped miserably, and Tony let the silence sit a minute. “These episodes,” he finally said. “Does anything bring them on? We’ve gotta get on top of this.”

Peter shrugged. “Stress, usually.”

“And today?” Silence fell again, and Tony was twitching in moments. Not fair for Peter to use his own weapons against him. “You’re scaring Karen, kid. Your emotionless AI buddy. That takes some doing.”

Peter shrugged again. “It’s stupid.”

“Probably,” Tony agreed easily. “Most things people do are, when you get down to it.”

Peter sighed heavily. “Everyone is mad at me and I can’t figure out why.”

“Who is everyone?”

“Ok, fine, not everyone - but Aunt May and Ned and MJ! That’s everyone but you, pretty much!”

Tony nodded and gestured towards himself. “I’m pretty important, and also not mad at all. For once.” Peter gave what might have been a breath of laughter. “No clue why everyone else is upset? Did you go round sticking their things to the ceiling or something?”

“No! I didn’t do anything! And none of them have said anything, but I’ve barely seen May in days and days and Ned and MJ are spending all their time at school whispering together and don’t have time to even talk to me!” Peter gestured uselessly with both hands, and then withdrew them, curling back in on himself. “I guess I deserve it, really. I’m always blowing all of them off for, you know.” He nodded toward his current situation, and Tony understood. 

“I’m gonna go out on a limb, here, and guess that you haven’t tried talking to any of them about any of this,” Tony said evenly. Peter shook his head. 

“I don’t want to make them feel bad, or like they owe me anything! I just wish I knew what I’d done wrong so I could -“ He gestured again, expansive and meaningless, and Tony nodded. He thought a long while, and then sighed. 

“If I were Pepper, I’d know what to say to you right now,” he says awkwardly. “My way of handling this kind of thing is to blow through it as high-handedly as possible, not letting on that you notice anything wrong. Usually if you’re brash enough about it, they give up being mad because they think you don’t even notice.”

“I don’t think that would work for me,” Peter muttered. 

“Oh no, there’s no way. I told you I don’t know what to tell you!”

“That’s ok,” Peter said quietly. “Just this is - so much, Mr. Stark. It’s so much. Thank you.”

“Literally the least I can do,” Tony assured him. 

They sat under the waning moon far longer than any sort of protocol required, and Tony waited, watching the kid gather all his resources, reform them into a shield around him, slap a determined cheerfulness on top. The strength and fragility of Peter Parker could move mountains. 

“By the way,” Tony called when Peter was about to leap away into the dark on his way home. “You can always use that protocol, too, when you need it! Just tell Karen to put you in a time out.”

Peter did laugh, then, as he slipped away, and Tony let out a sigh of relief. 

~~~~~

Everything suddenly comes clear on Friday, when Peter’s friend Ned hacks the system (again, god damn) and forces through a video call. Tony glares at the screen. 

“You’re interrupting a Stark Industries stockholder meeting, so whoever you are, this had better be good,” he warns. Ned goes slack-jawed with panic and starts babbling nonsense that puts Peter’s stuttering to shame. 

“-Mr. Stark, I am so so sorry, this is the worst moment of my life, I’ll just-“ 

Tony chuckles and lets the glare slip away. “Just keeping you on your toes, Fred. You never know what you’re going to interrupt when you mess with the system.”

“So - no meeting?” Ned asks slowly. 

“Just a meeting between myself and this fine bowl of Lucky Charms,” Tony tells him. 

“It’s - four thirty in the afternoon, sir,” - and for the love of little robots, now children were judging his eating habits? He pointed his spoon at Ned’s insufficiently-impressed face. 

“Breakfast. Most important meal of the day. So why did you call to interrupt mine, Ed?”

“It’s, uh, Ned, sir.” Tony smirked. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t know how else to get hold of you without Peter knowing!”

Lucky Charms no longer sounded appealing. He dropped the bowl onto his table and leaned forward, calling up the data from Peter’s suit. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt? Unconscious?”

“Are you ok, sir?” Ned asked, eyes going wide. 

All the data flows in beautifully, and Tony breathes a sigh of relief. All the vitals look good, and the suit’s eyes show him what Peter sees - currently, a nausea-inducing swing through the heights of New York City. 

“He looks fine to me,” Tony says. His heart begins to slow to a normal rhythm again. 

“Wow,” Ned says. “You’re worse than my mom.”

“Why are you talking to me, Ted?” Tony snaps. 

“I’m still Ned, sir. Anyway, I wasn’t calling because anything is wrong. You may not know this, but Peter’s birthday is in two weeks, and I wanted to invite you to his party.”

Tony slumps back in his chair. “You know, I hear there’s this fascinating new invention called the Post Office. For only a few cents, they can hand-deliver party invitations to anyone you want!”

“But I hafta explain,” Ned explains. “See, me and May and MJ, we wanted to make this birthday really special for Peter, after everything this year and since he works so hard to look after everybody, so we’ve been planning a surprise party.”

Surprise party. Which would involve a lot of whispered plans and late nights arranging the logistics. Tony rubs his temples with both hands. 

“And May decided to rent out the New York Hall of Science for the party, because that was always Peter’s favorite, and even though the parties there are usually for little kids, she’s been pulling all kinds of strings and arranging it all! It’s going to be so cool, and there’s a 3D movie and everything.”

“Ed,” Tony says, raising a hand. Ned plows on. 

“And everyone’s going to come - all the decathlon team, except Flash - and it’s going to be awesome! And I just need you to come, too, because you’re so important to Peter. Like, you don’t even know.”

“Fred.” 

“And I know, I know, you’re super busy, but you’ve gotta come. It’ll make his whole week, I swear, sir!”

“Ted.” 

“And here’s the thing - it’s gotta be a surprise, so we want you to help get him there without letting him know about the party! Maybe we can fake a hostage situation or something, and then bam! Iron Man and Peter Parker arrive, ready to save the day, but surprise! It’s a party!” Ned looks ready to break out the streamers. 

Tony has reached a point of desperation. “Ned!” It comes out way too loud, and Ned blinks in surprise. “Slow down, all right? We’ve got to talk.”

“Uhh, ok,” Ned says slowly. “To me? I mean yeah, of course to me! Guy in the chair, right? I’m here! In the chair!”

“Zip it a moment, Chair Guy,” Tony tells him, not unkindly. “Look, the idea is great, but - ok no, you know what? The sentiment is great. The idea is awful.” Ned looks ready to protest, and Tony cuts him off. “Are you aware of Peter’s ‘bad days’?”

“Yes,” Ned says, sounding hesitant. “Are you?”

Tony pauses, blinks. “I’m going to ignore that, because I’m a kind man. Now tell me, Ned. If we lie to Peter and convince him his friends and family are in danger, and then drop him into a wildly overstimulating environment with lasers and singing and 3D movies, how do you think he’s going to react?”

“Ooohhhhhh.” It’s a slow, drawn-out noise, and Tony hears the regret setting in. He sighs. 

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble,” he says more gently. “But the facts are that surprises, in general? Not good for your garden variety superhero. We get way too many of them in our line of work.”

“We just,” Ned stammers. “We just wanted to show him-“

“I know.” He rubs his forehead. “I’m not saying don’t celebrate. Just don’t spring it on him, ok? He’s a bit - tightly wound, right now. And for that matter, don’t go whispering around behind his back, because now you’ve got him sure you all hate him for being Spider-Man or something. God knows I can’t keep these teenage delusions of angst straight.”

Ned looks poleaxed, and Tony feels guilty, but what else can he do?

“We didn’t even think about - about any of that,” he stammers. 

“You’re not supposed to.” Tony is so tired, now. “Normal kids are supposed to enjoy surprise parties and practical jokes and all the rest. And Peter needs as much of that as possible. He needs friends like you. You just need to be careful.”

Ned nods slowly. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I’ll tell May. We can change the plans as much as we need to.”

“Great work, Ted,” Tony says with a fake salute. 

“You’re coming though, right?” Ned presses. “You have to come. Even more, now, because we’ll need you to be on the lookout for anything that we can’t see that could be a problem for Peter.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tony says, already bringing up his calendar to see how many things he’ll have to cancel. “Just - don’t tell him I interfered, got it?” 

Last thing he needs is for the kid to figure out just how much he’d been conned into caring about him.


	5. Self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are honestly the most amazing! I cannot believe the thoughtful, kind, encouraging comments you’ve been leaving. They’re so very, very much appreciated. I’m absolutely awe-struck by how much I’m enjoying writing and sharing this story, after far too much time away from writing. Thank you all so much, and I really hope you continue to enjoy!
> 
> (Note for this chapter: I’m not an expert on the educational law in New York, so apologies if I’ve eggregiously misrepresented anything here!)

It’s Pepper who warns Tony of the coming disaster.

“Why does Peter need a work permit?” She asks the question casually as she walks through the room, flipping through a stack of important paperwork that’s giving Tony hives even from a distance.

“Huh?” Tony asks. It’s his wit and intelligence and sparkling conversational abilities that have won the heart of this impossibly wonderful woman, he knows.

“It’s probably nothing,” she says, handing him a whole stack of things that need to be signed. He tries to back away, but Peper knows him, knows he doesn’t have the slightest issue with her handing him things, and raises a deadly eyebrow at him. He caves pretty quickly. “It just surprised me. I guess now that the internship is actually a thing and not just a lie the two of you cooked up, we have to expect a bit more paperwork on that front.”

She heads out without another word, her dirty work done, and Tony frowns at the distasteful stack of work in front of him. Anything that results in more paperwork is a bad thing, in his book. (Except not really, because it’s Peter, and Tony would do a hell of a lot more than paperwork for that kid.) He signs his way through the pile, and doesn’t stop to read any of it until he spots Peter’s name.

It’s a work permit, yeah. Of a sort. Except it’s not.

It’s paperwork from Peter’s school looking for Stark Industries to provide verification that Peter Parker is a full-time employee. 

So that he can drop out of school.

Tony puts the paper down and breathes really, really deeply for a few minutes as he tries to decide who to call and shout at first. Peter is the obvious answer, but he also feels like he needs more information before he talks to the little reprobate himself. (Why the HELL does Peter think he’s dropping out of high school?) He should call May. She’s supposed to be the responsible one here - but he knows damn well that if May Parker had the faintest hint of this, she’d already have dealt with it. Telling her directly will short-circuit any other approaches to this, and Tony likes to keep his options open whenever possible. 

He goes to Peter’s school.

The great thing - the really, really great thing - about being a brilliant and famous billionaire is that you can give disgusting sums of money to worthy causes like schools. A tangential benefit of that generosity is that when you then show up at said school, they roll out the red carpet. Tony is comfortably seated in the principal’s office in minutes, while Morita offers his thanks and tries to explain what they're doing with his contributions. 

Tony lets him talk for a minute or two before waving him off. “I’m sure you’re doing wonderful things here, and I’m happy to keep supporting your work. Actually, I was here to discuss one aspect of our little partnership. I’m following up on our interns, and one of them attends school here. Peter Parker, right?”

He’s surprised at how Morita’s eyebrows draw together in what looks like disapproval at the name. “Yes,” the principal says slowly. “The internship program.”

“He’s been a great intern,” Tony offers, already wondering how the kid has pissed off his principal this badly. “Very dedicated. Heart’s in the right place.”

Morita frowns. “Mr. Stark, I must be honest with you. I do not believe this internship has been in Peter’s best interests.”

Ahhh. Morita’s mad at him, not the kid. That honestly does make more sense. Tony raises an eyebrow and gestures for him to continue. 

“Peter has always been one of our finest students, despite sometimes-challenging life circumstances. We all stood behind him, though, and expected great things. Obtaining a Stark internship seemed the start of all the best things to come, for Peter.” He stops, looking perturbed. 

“And?” Tony presses. He knows exactly why the internship might not look so good, from the outside. 

“Peter has changed, since going to work for you,” Morita says sternly. “He has lost focus and motivation in many of his classes. He quit most of his extracurricular activities in order to devote time to his internship. Moreover, his teachers have noted changes in his demeanor and attitude that have concerned us all.”

Tony swallows. It’s not like there is a real internship to blame, but he still feels guilty. He knows what Morita means. The weight of it - of what Peter had elected to carry on his shoulders, for the sake of his chosen duty - honestly has changed the kid. He’s older and wiser now, some might say. There’s a sadness to him that Tony had glimpsed the first day they met, along with that unholy outsized sense of responsibility for anything and everything that he couldn’t prevent from going wrong. Sometimes the kid looks so tired that Tony’s bones ache to look at him.

“And now,” Morita says, shaking his head, “Peter tells me he is leaving school to go to work for you full-time? Mr. Stark, surely you must see that, despite his intellect, Peter is still a child? He needs to continue his education, not cut himself off from further growth! He-“

Tony cuts him off. “Hey, hey! I’m on your side, here!” Morita stills, and Tony shakes his head. “I just got wind of this little scheme today, and came to see if you could tell me anything. Peter hasn’t spoken to me about leaving school. If he had, I’d have flown him back here in one of my suits and glued his ass to a chair myself.”

Morita gives a long, tired sigh. “That is, perhaps, worse. Why should one of my most talented, hard-working pupils suddenly decide not only to try to drop out, but also attempt to deceive us both about it?”

“Because he knows we’ll stop him,” Tony snaps. He takes a fraction of a second to imagine all the ways May might deal with this, and gives a little shudder on Peter’s behalf. The kid has really messed up this time. “You can stop him, right?”

“I can hold up all the paperwork it would take to release him from school,” Morita says slowly. “But Peter just turned sixteen, did he not? New York law only requires children to attend until sixteen. If he truly wants to leave, legally, I can’t stop him.”

Tony points at him fiercely. “Do everything you can. Slow it down, stall him, force him to take psychiatric tests to prove his mental fitness, if you must. I’ll block it, if I can. Lawyers have to be good for something, right? I’ll work on it from my angle, but he can’t be allowed to do this to himself.”

“I will do what I can,” Morita promises. He looks tired, too - and no wonder. He’s got a whole school full of brilliant, stupid, self-destructive, stressed out kids to deal with. Tony only has one, and he can’t even handle that much responsibility. (Note to FRIDAY: increase the size of the annual donation to Midtown. And send Morita a basket of cookies.)

Tony leaves. He doesn’t go back to work. Pepper will kill him (except she won’t, because this is Peter, and as soon as she hears the whole story she’ll be right there quietly freaking out with Tony.) 

He can’t work it out. What is the kid thinking? He’s at the top of his classes in a really good school, with a brilliant future laid out in front of him. All his options are open. He could go to any college he wants (any college. Really. Tony may already be dreaming of taking him on a campus tour of MIT, but he’s not his father. Peter can make his own choices.) 

And what does he think he’s going to tell his aunt? The school be willing to believe that Tony Stark hires child labor (god, he needs better PR people) but May Parker knows better. 

Kids are stupid, Tony decides bitterly. That’s what every scrap of memory from his own teenage years tells him, anyway. Time has blurred everything together, but what he recalls is a mess of bad decisions, over-dramatic conversations, wild self-loathing, and a crushing terror all the time of how he was screwing up his life without the faintest clue how to stop it. Peter is so much smarter and better than he ever was at this age - but Peter is still so damn impulsive. He can’t have thought this through. 

He needs to talk to Peter. 

FRIDAY helpfully provides him with the kid’s schedule for the day (and wow, he thinks HE’s borderline stalking the kid sometimes? FRIDAY needs therapy.) and Tony heads back to the school to pick him up. It would be so much easier if he could make Happy do this, wait back in the safety of his lab and then have a hands-off conversation about Making Good Choices while he tinkered and didn’t look the kid in the eye. 

Peter deserves better than that, though. How much good would it have done Tony if Howard had ever had one real conversation with him when he was spiraling out of control? (Peter isn’t spiraling. Peter’s fine - he’s going to be fine. Tony’s got this.) (God. Why is he thinking of it in these terms all the time? He’s not Peter’s father.)

Peter sees him when he steps out. Hard not to - Tony’s car isn’t exactly inconspicuous, and he’s waiting outside it, lounging against it with an aggressively casual stance. Tony sees the kid’s face light up as he bounds toward him - and then slows way the hell down, suddenly looking spooked. Spider sense tingling, or has he actually spotted the expression on Tony’s face? He’s going for his best impression of Bruce’s “I’m not mad, just really really really disappointed” face. He’s not sure how it comes off. 

Ned is at Peter’s heels, the two of them leaning toward one another to hiss a conversation that Tony can’t make out. He holds his position. Peter comes nearer, looking like he’s swallowed a frog and is now fighting off indigestion and internal frog-kicking. 

“Heeeyy, Mr. Stark!” he calls from ten feet away, hands clasping his backpack straps so tightly his fingers are turning white. “Great to see you but I’m afraid this is a really bad time for me? So I’m gonna go? But I’ll catch you real soon, promise!” He’s still walking, trying to get by without stopping. 

Tony stays silent. He just shakes his head, slowly and disapprovingly. Peter sighs heavily and drops his head, and moves toward Tony. 

“Give all my things to charity,” he mutters to Ned. “Tell Aunt May I loved her.”

“Godspeed,” Ned murmurs solemnly. “I’ll make you a memorial video on YouTube. It’ll go viral, I swear.” The share a complicated many-step handshake, and Tony turns around rapidly and gets in the car. He can’t let Peter see his face crack into a smile, or this will never work. 

Peter gets in the other side and sits with his backpack in his lap, like a somewhat tattered shield against the world. He clears his throat a few times, but doesn’t speak. 

“Hungry?” Tony asks, a bit sharp, a bit sarcastic. It’s his natural defense mechanism. “I’m hungry. Let’s get some food.” He takes off sharply, and doesn’t ask where Peter wants to go. He’s trying to fight off the surge of anger that’s rising up in him at the thought of what Peter is trying to do to himself. Anger is fighting with fear, though, because this is too big. A kid’s whole future is too big for Tony Stark to mess this up, and boy is he good at messing things up. 

He stops at what looks like the most hellish restaurant he can find. (FRIDAY found it for him. She’s an angel.) It’s an unholy mess of arcade games and cheap pizza and live theater shows and indoor play place that’s absolutely teeming with kids and their stressed out parents. Tony will fit right in. 

He pauses at the door, though, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “Can you handle this today?” Peter looks bewildered, and Tony gestures at the chaos inside. “Lotta noise, lotta input. Great for covering conversations. Maybe bad for the senses.”

“Oh!” Peter says, as if it hadn’t occurred to him, either. “No? It’s good. It’ll be fine.”

“You tell me if it isn’t.” Peter nods way too quickly, and Tony pulls them into the hellish hubbub. He deposits Peter at a table, grabs them both some truly awful-looking pizza and paper plates, and goes back to join the kid. His hands are shaking a little. They eat in silence for a minute, and to Tony’s surprise, the kid cracks first. 

“OK, look, Mr. Stark, I can explain!”

“Can you?” Tony says coolly, raising an eyebrow. “Oh goody.”

Peter gapes at him a moment, and Tony realizes that’s where Peter expected him to start lecturing. He just keeps eating his pizza, and gestures at the kid to keep going. 

“Just to be sure,” Peter says slowly, “this is about the, uh, work permit thing, right?”

Tony’s heart skips a few beats. “We’ll start there,” he says, forcing it to come out neutral because he’s sort of freaking out at the idea that there are Other Things he needs to be Talking to Peter about. Peter swallows hard and nods a lot. 

“I was gonna tell you,” he says, staring hard at his pizza crust. “I was, but I kept chickening out, and then Principal Morita said we couldn’t move forward until you’d signed the paperwork, and then I knew you were going to be mad.” Tony stays silent. It’s literally the hardest thing he’s ever done, and that includes the torture. “But I have to do this.” 

Peter’s chin goes up as he says that, defensive and determined, even though he’s gone all pale and big-eyed, like he’s facing something truly terrible. And Tony realizes with a jolt that he’s read this wrong. 

“Why?” He keeps the question so, so gentle, and Peter still flinches. He hesitates a long moment, and then pulls a folder out of his backpack. It’s half an inch thick, and ragged edges of newspapers stick out on all sides. He holds it with both hands for a long moment, before putting it down carefully in front of Tony. 

He could have handed it to him. 

Tony opens it, and it’s worse than he feared. 

Newspaper clippings. Murders, fires, muggings, assaults, car accidents. Kids left in hot cars, homeless people abused, drug deals gone bad. All in Queens. All within the last six months. 

“Kid,” Tony says helplessly. 

“How can I just go to school and ignore this, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, voice high and tense. “If I’m sitting in decathlon practice for an hour, that’s a whole hour that I’m doing nothing to protect people! How many people are going to get hurt because I’m wasting my time in - in gym class, for god’s sake?”

Tony shakes his head, as firmly as he can manage. This is so much worse than he thought. Peter hasn’t made some stupid, impulsive decision this time. He’s researched and thought it through. It’s still a stupid decision, of course, but getting that through to him just got a whole lot harder. “Are you planning to stop sleeping, too? Eating? What if you’re using the bathroom and something bad happens - are you gonna quit that, too?” He knows irritation is the wrong approach, but his hands are shaking a little. He’s not in the least equipped to deal with this kid. 

He should have told May and let her handle it. 

Peter looks even more guilty, somehow, and Tony’s stomach hurts. “Some things I can’t help,” he says, sounding stressed at the admission. “But I can be there every possible moment.”

Tony taps the folder frantically. “Even if you’d been on patrol eighteen hours a day, every day, you wouldn’t have been able to stop all of these! You’re just one kid. You can’t fix everything.”

Peter stares at him, but Tony isn’t sure he sees him. “I know you snoop,” he says bluntly. “I know you know about my Uncle Ben, and - and what happened.” Tony just nods. Of course he knows. “That one moment - it changed our lives forever, me and May. If someone had swooped in and stopped it, the world would be a better place - maybe just a little bit, but it would be better.” There are unshed tears in his eyes, and Peter gulps so hard it looks painful, but he doesn’t cry. 

Tony might, if he doesn’t stop. 

“It’s not your responsibility to make the world better all by yourself,” he tries to reason. “And you’re making a difference - you know you are! You’ve changed so many people’s lives already, and you’re just getting started.”

“I miss more than I save.” It’s a brutal assessment. “I’m not there, or I am there but I’m too late, or I’m there in time but I - I screw it up.” There’s a painful catch of breath there, and Tony narrows his eyes. 

“What, kid?” he asks gently. 

Peter sighs, heavy as grief, and pulls out one particular story. He hands it to Tony. 

“Where Were You, Spider-Man?” 

The headline screams in accusing bold print, and Tony sucks in a quick breath. He skims the article quickly, but he can already see how this goes. A little boy, the only survivor of a home invasion that went bad, had been interviewed in tears. He wanted to know where his hero had been, when his life fell apart. Tony reads with a growing fury at the so-called journalists who thought printing a story like this was ok - as if they didn’t have any feelings, those of them who suited up and did their best to save the world every day. 

“I was at a movie, Mr. Stark.” He can’t meet Peter’s eyes. “I went to see a movie with Ned, and it was fun! I had a great time. And then the next day, I saw this, and I just-“ he trails off. 

Tony has to be strong enough to help Peter through this - even though he wrestles with these same feelings every day, even though he can’t offer a single answer or solution or reassurance that doesn’t taste like ashes in his mouth. He runs a hand down his face, and blinks his eyes open to stare directly at the young man in front of him. 

“You missed it,” he says. He doesn’t blink. “You’ll miss others. You’ll miss so many and screw up so many times that they’ll all blur together, eventually. You’ll probably find yourself asking, sometimes, whether you’re even doing any good at all, or if they’d all be better off relying on the people who are meant to be doing this. Sometimes, it’s gonna eat you alive.” Peter is wide-eyed. “But yesterday, you stopped that woman from stepping in front of that train, and you got that toddler off the fire escape without any injuries, and prevented two muggings. That’s not nothing, Peter.”

“I should be doing more,” Peter says, voice hardly more than a whisper. 

Tony gestures around with both hands. “Who the hell can’t honestly say that? We should all be doing more, and we all feel guilty about it all the time. That includes people without superpowers, too.” He breathes out, slow and steadying. “I’m a futurist - or at least, that’s what people used to call me, once. I look to the future, and do you know what I see, in ten years’ time?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I see a young man with years ahead of him, working his hardest for his city. Probably with a hell of a lot of cool new technologies, because it’s the future - but also because this guy has worked his ass off, getting faster and better and smarter and stronger. He’s invested in himself, and he’s connected to the world because he lives in it.”

Peter opens his mouth, and Tony flicks a few fingers at him. 

“My turn still,” he says firmly. “Because you know what else I can see, in a different ten years’ future? A worn out, washed up guy who’s killing himself, and that not so slowly. Threw himself into it all, with the best of intentions, and at twenty-six, he’s done.” He hesitates a second, and then puts his hand on Peter’s forearm, squeezing gently. “You’re a limited resource. There’s only one Spider-Man - and more importantly, only one Peter Parker. We don’t get another one if we use you up. We need you. The future needs you - all of you, and not just whatever the tide washes up when you’re too worn out to fight anymore.”

Peter is listening. That’s a wonder. He sniffs roughly, and rubs at his face with the over-long sleeve on his free arm. “Mr. Stark,” he says plaintively. “I don’t know how - how to balance it all. I can’t just live a normal life, and if I can’t go all out on the saving people thing, I don’t know how to manage it.”

“So let people help,” Tony said bluntly. “May, me, Pepper, your friends. Let us invest in you, too. I’d throw money at you until I was blue in the face if that would help, but I don’t think it would. I can help train you, though. May can keep you grounded, keep your head on straight. Your friends had damn well better be making sure you take time off and have some fun - and not sit there obsessing the whole time.” He hesitated a moment, and then pressed on. “Get therapy, if you need it. God knows I have.”

They sit there, surrounded by screaming children and blaring arcade games and the worst excuse for music Tony has ever heard, and he squeezes Peter’s arm supportively as the kid struggles through, until he’s breathing normally again and his face has faded from red to a mild pink. 

“I could go to school part time,” he tries, and Tony just shakes his head. A wave of affection, so strong and bright it catches him off guard, sweeps over his heart. This kid. This impossible kid. Peter sighs, and lets go. 

“You’re no quitter, kiddo,” Tony reminds him gently as they slide out of the stupid little booth they’d been sharing and head for the doors. “Ben and May raised you better than that.” That gets him something like a smile. 

“Oh no,” Peter groans as they get back to the car. “Principal Morita! I already told him I’ve got a job and need to leave for family reasons and everything. What if he’s already unenrolled me from everything?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Tony says, repressing a grin. 

One of these days, the kid is going to work out that everyone is on his side. 

Tony’s going to get to work managing the press again, and maybe give a few pointed statements on the realities of the lives of their heroes. He’s going to see whether an influx of money to the emergency services departments of Queens would help at all, and whether there’s a properly qualified counselor in place at Midtown, and whether May is aware of any of what’s going on in her poor nephew’s screwed up little head. 

He missed this, for way too long. He misses more things than he catches. He almost didn’t get this one at all. He screws things up. 

But he knows, though horrible experience, that leaving Peter alone and not helping him is so much worse. 

He’ll be in the kid’s corner, fighting off every attack he can, helping him to head for that bright shiny future, until Tony’s peacefully in the ground under the watchful eye of Spider-Man.


	6. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: in case you don’t obsessively read every tag, this story is now littered with new ones because this chapter contains MAJOR Infinity War spoilers/content. And, you may note by the warnings, Major Character Death. Because Marvel is sadistic and evil, and I’m Coping Through Art. Or something. 
> 
> Love and much love to all of you wonderful darlings. See you at the end.

He can’t stop it. 

~~~~~

He builds Spider-suits for Peter - builds them over and over again, because they can always be better, always be safer. There’s always more to add, and Tony is a stickler for details because he knows damn well that the smallest things can make all the difference. One of his little ideas is going to be the thing that saves Peter one of these days. 

576 webshooter settings isn’t overkill if one of them keeps the kid from winding up dead. 

Pepper gets concerned, sometimes, and Tony knows why. He wants to promise her that this is nothing - that he can put this project aside and focus on the big things. He wants to be able to promise her stability and reliability. No more surprises, no more wildness. She deserves it. 

But Pepper never asks him to stop - not on this one - and Pepper is the one who suggests the retractable spider legs, because she’s as brilliant as she is kind. 

“Take care of him,” she whispers to Tony, far too late one night when he absolutely has to get up and make notes about a new idea, a new safety system. He’s so grateful that she doesn’t ask him to explain. 

~~~~

He sees it coming and there is nothing he can do. 

~~~~

Thing is, he has policies in place now - not just protocols. They’re meant to keep everything moving smoothly, through all of Stark Industries and anything Avengers-related (not that that’s really around much, these days) as well as in Tony’s personal life, such as it is. Pepper helped him develop them. He has policies for media exposure and charitable contributions and everything else that will hold still long enough to be gift wrapped in paperwork and red ink. 

Vision and Rhodey have tried to understand what he’s doing, but Tony always fluffs them off with sarcasm or transparent lies that he knows they’ll see right through. He doesn’t feel like explaining himself. 

The thing is, though. The thing is, Tony’s world keeps exploding, and he keeps having to put the pieces back together into new and ever-more complicated, more demanding shapes. Afghanistan. The Battle of New York. Ultron. The Civil War. The media and the opportunistic people who keep writing Tony’s biography (as if he’s already dead, a voice whispers in his head) slap neat, easy labels on each explosion of the very foundations of his life. 

He adapts. He gets stronger, changes his approach, carries on. 

But Tony isn’t as young as he used to be, and it’s getting harder to put everything back together every time. He needs as much in his life to be firm and certain as possible. So, policies and protocols, and making sure he trusts everyone he’s forced to rely on. Sometimes that means he has to build them himself. 

Peter is, in a way, his ultimate insurance policy. He will never, never let the kid know, because he doesn’t deserve to have to carry that weight, but Peter is the future. Tony will pour everything he can into the kid, because with his astonishing gifts and even more astonishing heart, Peter Parker is going to be the greatest legacy Tony can leave the world. 

He’s not Tony’s kid, and they both know that. He doesn’t need to be. 

~~~  
It wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway, if he’d been able to force the kid to stay home. 

It wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway, no matter what Tony did.  
~~~  
Nobody is ever going to know how much research Tony did. (Nobody. Because if FRIDAY ever shares it, he’s programmed in subroutines that will make her a laughingstock with less credibility than a drunken Tony Stark.) It’s ridiculous. 

Peter gave him permission, technically. He offered blood and DNA samples without question, and told Tony every detail of the spider bite and what had followed. (Every detail. Exhaustively. Tony’s not sure whether to chalk that up to super-enhanced memory of some sort or just a genius kid’s excitement at being able to share his whole story.) 

It’s a project he’s always working on, in the background - analyzing everything he can about Peter’s mutated DNA, because nothing comes without a cost. Peter may be having the time of his life, clinging to ceilings and scaling national monuments, but Tony gets scared, sometimes. What does it cost a body, to heal itself like that all the time? What are the limits of the human senses? How will the universe make Peter pay its toll?

He researches cancer and mental deterioration, bone density and PTSD and the effects of spandex on skin. He studies spiders, even hires an expert on arachnids at Stark Industries for supposedly unrelated purposes. He reads about kids with unusual illnesses - not that Peter’s sick, of course. But kids whose lives take a sudden change of course right in the middle of their formative years - how does it affect them? What support do they need? 

He makes steps towards breakthroughs in several fields, and just forwards them to trusted experts. He doesn’t have time to cure cancer all on his own right now. 

The world is going to explode again, that’s certain. When it does, he needs the kid to be in the best possible position to handle wherever it throws at him. 

~~  
Tony knows, the moment the monstrosity steps away and leaves them bleeding, that they’ve lost everything except the final race against time. 

When the others fade into dust, he knows what’s coming.  
~~

Everything goes out the window as soon as there’s an alien invasion - another one - in New York. There’s no time to think, to plan, to research, to feel vindicated. He’s always known this day would come, and for all the work he’s done, he’s not ready. 

He realizes it with brilliant, cruel clarity as Pepper’s voice cuts out, as FRIDAY is left behind. Everyone Tony loves is left behind, just like before, as he sails into the abyss to face certain destruction. This is a one way trip. He doesn’t give himself the luxury of really examining what that means. Tony’s been on borrowed time for a long while, now. 

He doesn’t have a plan, or backup, or an army of mechanized suits at his beck and call. 

He winds up facing annihilation with the strangest group of people he’s ever met, and with Peter. He wishes to god Peter had stayed home, stayed safe, never been placed in this situation to start with. 

But they’re all there, with the fate of the universe riding on their weird, weird shoulders, and they have to make use of every resource they have. Together, they’re damn strong, and so determined, because they cannot afford to lose. 

They lose. 

~  
Peter dies in his arms. He’s terrified, panicking, and so damn young. 

Tony can’t save him, doesn’t save him. 

Tony can’t do a single fucking thing to stop it.  
~

The thing is. 

The thing is, Tony Stark is used to losing everything that matters to him. He’s used to the world exploding under his feet and leaving him to pick up the pieces and reassemble them. 

But he’s sitting on the cold, unearthly remains of a dead world, covered in the ashes of the boy he had tried so hard to protect, and nothing but death seems within his reach. He has nothing. His fame and fortune mean nothing here; he’s more than half dead himself, held together with nanotechnology and devastation. 

The blue woman keeps trying to talk to him, to demand information, but Tony’s hands are covered in ashes, and he draws himself into a huddle and tries to keep breathing. There’s no reason to. Maybe spite, if he ever feels that or anything else again. 

His hands are covered in ashes. Tony closes his eyes and tries to think, because that’s what Tony Stark does. He thinks and he plans and he researches and he builds. 

Once upon a time, Peter Parker picked a peck of way more trouble than he could handle, and the big bad wolf dropped a building on him. A building, Tony thinks, his thoughts verging on hysteria. Tiny little Peter, trapped under a building with no friends, no suit, no help, no hope for rescue. 

He’d told Tony part of the story, eventually, and FRIDAY had dug up enough footage from cameras to verify the details. Peter had told Tony what he’d done, Tony’s own harsh words ringing in his ears, and Peter had lifted that building off himself through nothing but sheer force of will. 

Peter Parker has never stopped, not for anything. He never could have stopped the kid - not from being Spider-Man, not from taking risks. Not from getting killed. Peter had flung himself at every brick wall that stood in his way, over and over again, and it had always been the walls that had crumbled. Mountains would have broken beneath that kind of determination.

If the snap had gone the other way

If Peter had lived, and Tony had died

Peter never, never would have stopped. 

Tony doesn’t weep, doesn’t cry, doesn’t scream at the heavens. He doesn’t lament what he didn’t have time to say. 

He forces himself to stand, wavering on his feet as a frantic stab of pain goes through his body. Nanotechnology will help with all of that, though at nothing like the pace Peter-

He dusts his hands off, so gently. The ashes fall slowly, some caught up in the breeze to dance away, faded from view in an instant. There is no evidence that Peter was ever here at all. 

Tony takes a step toward the blue woman, who has a spaceship, who is the first step in making all of this right. “We,” he says, and the voice that comes out is destroyed. He clears his throat. “We need to get that gauntlet.”

He doesn’t look back. He never does. 

He’s going to think, and plan, and research, and build, and take that fucking gauntlet away from Thanos and make all the sad things come untrue again. Time and reality and all the rest will have to be rewritten. Doesn’t matter how long it takes or whose help he has to seek. The way Tony sees it, half the universe just suffered losses like his own. That’s half a universe full of pissed off people with axes to grind, and Tony Stark is going to make sure they get their chance. 

He has a kid to retrieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. 
> 
> I’m so very sorry for writing this chapter. I’m sorrier that canon made it necessary. 
> 
> Thank you guys so very much for the support and kindness! I’ve had an utter blast writing this, and I’m sure I’ll be back with more. Probably soon. Probably you won’t be rid of me for a while. Love and chocolate kisses - Verity.

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi! I am so brand new around these parts that I’m having severe imposter syndrome because I don’t know how to write any of these people yet. I got my heart skewered by Infinity War like the rest of the populace and had to deal with it by writing Tony Stark as the anxious protective force of twitchy, awkward kindness that he is around Peter. I really, really hope you enjoy, and I’ll do my best to keep updates frequent. Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
